Raging Fury

Katarrah gazed around himself, surveying the arrayed Eldar warhost in all its splendour. His grim smile was hidden beneath the heavy mask of the Striking Scorpion mask, of course, but he had not intended for it to be seen.

When the Avatar turned it’s gaze upon him, however, it’s wild stare seeming to penetrate his very soul, the sm,ile vanished, as even the ancient might of the eternal warrior quailled before the power of a god. Indeed, the Avatar was the living manifestation of a shard of one of the two surviving Eldar gods; Kaela Mensha Khaine, the blood handed god, Eldar god of war and destruction. As the Avatar’s gaze swept away from Katarrah and into the ruined industrial facility up ahead, he thought about how appropriate that was.

The Phoenix Lord knew that even his timeless spirit was nought before the fury of the Avatar. None could resist it’s awesome might. Certainly not the spawn of the hive fleets they would be facing today. Now-distant Farseers of the Etalwč craftworld had predicted that the might of the Tyranids would fall upon the human world of Janus IV this day.

Etalwč was a craftworld that placed a heavy emphasis on the pursuit of war, and as such the ancient craftworld was liberally scattered with aspect warrior shrines. The path of the Warlock was also popular – how Katarrah wished that one of those mighty psykers could have been with them today. However, their psyker had been slain by a swooping horde of gargoyles. He had been overwhelmed in seconds by the ambush – Eldar avengers had slain the rest of the brood in seconds, but it was already too late for their butchered comrade. Similar ambushes had also taken their toll on the Eldar host. But the core of the army was intact, and around Katarrah and the Avatar stood five proud warriors of the Dark Reaper aspect, as well as fourteen valiant Guardian warriors and a sleek Falcon anti-gravity tank. Aye, thought Katarrah, they would drive the Tyranids from this world.

Indeed, far above them, around this ravaged world, Etalwč Wraithcraft and Imperial battleships had forged an alliance of convenience to crush the Tyranid hive fleet that advanced upon this world. They were, at last reports, crushing the last vestige of the Tyranid fleet – which was in itself but a small tendril of the creeping evil of the greater Hive Fleet – although having suffered terrible casualties. Nothing compared to the carnage down here, noted Katarrah. A scattered few humans, mostly Planetary Defence troopers and Adeptus Arbites, remained holed away in the palace in the centre of the planet’s capital. They would soon fall to the fury of the Tyranid attackers, however. There was one hope for the humans, and one hope for the Eldar to save this human outpost, which would in itself be pivotal in future events within this sector, the Farseer J’hara had informed Katarrah. They had to strike fast and hard into the rear of the Tyranid forces, where the Hive Tyrant, mastermind of the swarm on the planet’s surface, directed it’s children. The Eldar would move in, kill the Tyrant, and swiftly crush the surviving Tyranids as they reeled in shock from the death of their master. Imperials would also sally forth to crush the Tyranids against the anvil of the Eldar force.

That was how it was planned, of course. All that remained was the execution of the plan. Katarrah knew the Tyrant was nearby; the mighty Avatar had halted it’s striding progress across the surface of the ravaged world, stopping before the ruins of an Imperial Outrider post. Yes, thought Katarrah. Here we stand or here we fall.

With one sweeping gesture he directed the Dark Reapers to take up positions in the relatively untouched battle bunker nearby, and had the two Guardian squads occupy the nearby ruins and landing pad building respectively. The Falcon hovered at the rear army, it’s progress momentarily halted by the density of the surrounding terrain. The Avatar stood boldly between the positions of the two Guardian squads, whilst Katarrah was more cautious – he was not gifted with invulnerability, as the living god was. He remained half-hidden in the shadows of the landing pad.

‘There!’ he had time to murmur, as he caught sight of a flash of purple carapace under the Imperial industrial facility up ahead. A Genestealer. He raised one arm to ready the Eldar. When he dropped it, they would explode into action.

He was pre-empted, however.

From the centre of the ruins where the largest Guardian squad hid, the vast form of a terrifying Lictor exploded forth. Katarrah’s eyes widened in momentary surprise, even admiration for that alien cunning. Yes, a trap had been lain for them here. The Lictor must have buried itself beneath that tortured Earth for days, waiting for this moment.

The Lictor ignored the surprised Guardians, and instead bounded on knobby legs towards the incandescent form of the Avatar. The bloody-handed god swung about, pivoting on a foot, raising the Wailing Doom high in preparation. When the two giants met, they exploded into furious action. Katarrah was almost drawn into watching this titanic struggle, but other events demanded his attention. For ahead of him, from the shadows of the ruined facility, a score of Genestealers boiled forth. A living tide of chitin and carapace, of flashing claw and leering face. They swarmed forth, moving with insectile sped towards the Eldar host. Simultaneously, a vast figure appeared at the very peak of the industrial facility. From the long weapon in one of its hands, it belched forth two hissing projectiles. One ploughed uselessly into the ground, but the other struck the Falcon grav-tank a horrible blow, and somehow tore into its side. Seconds later, the venerable war machine erupted into crimson fire, jets of flame spewing from a dozen rents in it’s side. Katarrah’s heart would have sunk, had he been any lesser Eldar. That was a horrific blow to the Eldar; effectively a fourth of their force lost at a stroke. But he was a Phoenix Lord, and the fear of death was nothing to him. Indeed, the fear of failure was greater, and remembering this, he leapt into action, his chainsword buzzing to life and his power claw clenching in preparation.

To his right, the Lictor and the Avatar still duelled. Two of the Lictor’s long talons had embedded themselves deep into the Avatar’s torso, but the bloody-handed one merely howled its rage and swung the Wailing Doom in a wide arc, severing two of the Lictor’s spindly appendages. They flopped helplessly to the ground as the Avatar tore them from its torso, and prepared once more to join battle.

To his front, the boiling horde of Genestealers surged forwards once more, their long bounds bringing them into battle. Two leapt to attack a Guardian, who cowered behind the ruins of a wall. His shuriken catapult spat death, but the ‘stealers dodged the projectiles with blinding speed and were quickly upon the screaming man. One heavy claw knocked aside his weapon and disembowelled him, as the ‘stealers brood hopped over his gory corpse. Metres away, another group of Stealers leapt for Katarrah. The Phoenix Lord was more prepared, however. His Mandiblasters spat into the eyes of the closest ‘stealer, blinding it, before a sweep from his chainsword seperated head from monstrous shoulders. However, it’s colleague was more successful – a blow landed upon the Phoenix Lord, slicing through his armour with ease and causing him severe damage. He gasped in pain as his vision blurred and the ‘stealer withdrew it’s blood-red claw, but he was not helpless. His power claw reached out and crushed the ‘stealer’s head like so much cardboard. Realising that already he was severely wounded, he loped away from the advancing ‘stealers, hoping perhaps to have them pursue him into the firing zones of the Guardians. A snap shot from his shuriken pistol failed to strike any of the aliens.

Over his head, an impressive flight of missiles soared. The Dark Reapers had pinpointed the figure of the Hive Tyrant on high, and were attempting to avenge the loss of their tank. Fully ten missiles sung as they reached out for the Tyrant, but little damage appeared to have been done by the assault.

The Guardians were more successful. The effectiveness of their weapons against poorly-protected targets was legendary, and a hail of shuriken fire slaughtered many of the nearest Genestealers. The survivors of the brood that had attacked Karandras were wiped out, whilst the five that had cut down the Guardian were reduced to a lone ‘stealer.

And still the combat between the Avatar and the Lictor raged on. Both creatures were utterly fearless, one due to its unswerving faith in the Hive Mind, and the other safe in the knowledge that none could defeat a god. The Lictor struck, wounding the Avatar again, and somehow nimbly dodged the retaliatory attacks.

The Tyranid Hive Tyrant, enraged at the deaths of nearly a full half of it’s ‘stealer broods, had the rest surge forwards in an attempt to overwhelm the Eldar through sheer weight of numbers. The lone survivor of the first brood leapt for the Guardians that stared at it in shock from the vantage point of a ruined building, its wicked claws reached for the squad leader.

The Hive Tyrants venom cannon spat again, the squelching thud of it’s projectiles being launched penetrating the thick insulation of even Katarrah’s aspect mask. He glanced up at the bunker to see one of the Dark Reapers flung backwards, armour bubbling and melting from the attack. He cursed, but knew he was unable to help at all. He had no long ranged weapons and one genestealer would probably be able to finish him in his weakened state.

The Avatar screamed its rage as one final blow from the Wailing Doom sliced the Lictor in two. The halves of the hissing Tyranid beast flopped to the ground, even as the Avatar turned it’s burning gaze on new challenges – the Genestealers that even now were pushing forwards. Elsewhere, the last of the first Genestealer brood struck out at the terrified Guardians before it. Somehow, impossibly, its blows failed to connect, as the Eldar warriors kept it at bay with swipes from their catapults.

Heavy feet pounding, the Avatar strode towards the Genestealers before it. Fear was apparent in even their alien eyes, but they stood firm, tensed and ready to leap. Even the loss of more of their brood to the deadly effective shuriken catapults did not break them.

The Dark Reapers launched one last salvo of missiles in desperation, hoping to bring down the mighty Hive Tyrant, which still perched atop the tower, mocking them with it’s presence. Similarly, the second squad of Eldar Guardians, occupying the Imperial landing pad, turned their weapons away from the ‘stealers below and towards the Tyranid mastermind. Under the hail of fire that struck it, the mighty beast at last toppled, it’s vast body crashing down from the tower as shuriken stars filled the air around it.

The Genestealers elsewhere seemed to be unaware of the death of their master, the surviving broods meeting the charge of the raging Avatar. Two of them were sent flying, dismembered, by the fury of the Avatar. But the others simply pressed in tighter, seeking to slay the living god. Across the battlefield, the Guardians took heart from their previous successes, and as one fended the ‘stealer away with the barrel of her catapult, she fired, the shuriken stars ripping through the ‘stealer, sending it crashing to the ground.

The Avatar was now surrounded by a half-dozen Genestealers – in fact, the entirety of the surviving Tyranid brood. Another two were brought low by the Wailing Doom, but the mighty warrior was at least struck down by their wicked claws. With a groan that was echoed by every Eldar on the battlefield, the lifeless form of their commander came crashing to the ground.

But the battle was done. No more than four Genestealers now survived, and even now these four fell in retributory fire from the Guardian squads.

Yes, thought the wounded Katarrah, power claw clutched across the tear in his side, the battle was done, and won. But surveying the lifeless form of the bloody-handed one, he was compelled to add: But at what cost?

Shaun Green, 1999